Chapter 5 as promised. I have a real soft spot for this chapter, even though it's a little short (in my terms). I had a lot of fun writing it.

I hope you all enjoy reading. Thank you.

(Re-beta'ed by Dances With Vampires)

Chapter 5: Defeated

"Now, on to the pressing matter of Eliza. Hermione received a call from an aunt who works in the industry. She presented her theory at the conference," Tonks informed the group seated around the kitchen table.

There was an angry murmur throughout the kitchen.

"I told you, you should have Obliviated her."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Remus said. "She started this theory weeks before she met any of us. This was bound to happen."

"We have every reason to believe that You-Know-Who also knows this, as does the Ministry of Magic," Arthur said. "Mad-Eye is working on taking control of the Ministry side of things, but the Death Eaters have started taking action of their own. Severus says that they want her alive, but even You-Know-Who isn't likely to compromise Muggles knowing about magic."

"I'll arrange for her to be checked on in the morning," Tonks assured.

-.-.-

Eliza shook in the corner of the lounge room. She hadn't slept in days, and the answering machine flashed with several unanswered calls. What had she done? Her brother and sister were missing, and she had no idea how to report it. Oh, of course she could tell the police, but what then? She bought the tickets, made the arrangements. . .she couldn't exactly tell them that she had sent them to a cousin's house she now couldn't remember having.

She called Troy, but every time she was casually informed via automated message that his number was out of service. She had been so overwhelmed with relief at Claire's call, she never even thought to ask for an address or a phone number, convinced it was in her Rolodex. But of course it wasn't. Between the events of her ordeal with that thing, and her missing family, she was at the end of her tether. Nothing was as it seemed anymore, nothing was simple, nothing was logical or even reasonable. Wouldn't Lucius have told her if he had her family? There was no one else she could think of who would have reason to take them. Thoughts swam like sharks, biting away her confidence and hope, devouring everything she had believed in her life.

They mentioned her father - what did they know about him? For heaven's sake he was a paediatrician. She was exhausted, and the more she tried to draw conclusions the further they slipped from her. Why had they dragged her into this mess? She was nothing. That much was clear by the way they treated her.

A knock on the door startled her back to reality.

"Miss, there's a girl here to talk to you, she says her name is… Hermione." Eliza scrambled to her feet and opened the door. Hermione was on the landing, holding what looked like a frame of some sort wrapped in brown paper, flanked by the security detail one of whom was handing her back her bag.

"Thank God, Hermione." Eliza stepped back to let her in. Hermione barely had a chance to come in through the door before Eliza closed it and erupted.

"They're missing - Troy and Maddie, they're gone. I think Lucius has them and I can't tell anyone because no one would believe me, and-" Eliza broke down into hysterical sobs. "It's all my fault, he didn't want to leave me here but I told him to. . ."

"We know, he told us," Hermione said, taking a seat opposite and holding out the tissue box to her. "But how did you find out?"

Eliza froze. "What?"

"How did you find out that they weren't with your cousin?"

"I don't have a cousin!" Eliza didn't mean to yell at the girl, but in her current emotional state, she didn't have the willpower for anything calmer.

"We know that," Hermione sighed. "Tonks. . .When she checked on them, they were being followed. She made the decision to remove them from harm. She knew you wouldn't agree, so. . ." She was uncomfortable being the messenger. "They are safe, and everyone is very careful not to expose them to magic. We didn't want you to be worried, so she created Claire."

Eliza stared at Hermione for several minutes in an almost catatonic state before leaping out of her chair and hugging her. She started sobbing again hysterically. "Thank you. Oh, God." Relief crashed into her in waves - Lucius didn't have them; they knew nothing about magic; they were safe. She excused herself to clean up when she finally regained composure, and realised she hadn't bathed in almost three days. Hermione waited downstairs. When she returned, she realised it had been almost as long since she'd eaten, and they relocated to the kitchen. "So where are they?"

"They're at our headquarters - it's very safe. There are some other kids there at the moment who are keeping Maddie relatively distracted, and Troy is happy reading. But right now I'm more interested in you." Hermione accepted the tea handed to her. "You presented your theory." It wasn't a question. "The Ministry of Magic knows, and so do the Death Eaters. We've managed to keep the Ministry from getting involved. However. . .the Death Eaters. . .well, you've seen the news."

Eliza shook her head. She had stopped caring about everything else, living in her own bubble of torment.

Hermione pulled a rolled up newspaper from her handbag and turned it so that Eliza could read the headline. "The Death Eaters have taken it upon themselves to discredit you. They are killing normal Muggles without prejudice, all over the country."

Eliza's heart felt as though it had been thrown in a bucket of ice, her lungs not willing to take in air. The photos of three happy, smiling families looked at her. They were all dead. "I. . ." But no words followed.

"Despite the war, there is one thing all factions agree on. Muggles can't know about magic."

"So why the hell didn't you make me forget?" Eliza demanded. "You said yourself you could."

"Yes, they could have made you forget, and then what?" Hermione asked pointedly. "Lucius comes back, discovers you have forgotten everything, and goes through the whole routine again. Do you really want that? Like it or not, whatever he wants from you, you're going to remember it even if he has to remind you a hundred times over. And making someone forget so many times is dangerous. In your case you are better off knowing. Where's the ring?"

"Lucius threw it away."

"You saw him again?"

Eliza sat down with her own tea and stared at the cup. Here was someone she could finally tell, but she didn't want to. "He snatched me off the street after the conference," she said quietly to the drink. "He took me. . .I don't know where or how, but he took me somewhere, and he was actually. . ." She snorted and shook her head. "He was actually nice for a little while, or at least as nice as I imagine he could be. He wanted me to meet someone who could make the message sink in." She put the cup down as her hands began to shake so much the tea spilled over the lip. "I don't know. . .what that thing was. . .and honestly, I really don't want to. He was talking as though. . .he knew my father, maybe even me. I just. . ." Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. She had to fight to say every word, her throat and head protesting every syllable. To say it out loud somehow made it more real.

Hermione said nothing, letting her say her piece.

Eliza took a deep breath and continued. "He told me. . .that. . .I was forgiven, but then that forgiveness had to be earned." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"He tortured you," Hermione said quietly.

Eliza nodded. "And then he just left, and Lucius brought me home." It wasn't Hermione's look of sympathy that she found hardest to meet her gaze over. It was this wasn't the first time she had heard tell of an encounter like this.

"What are you going to do now?"

Eliza took a few moments to compose herself. "I don't know. . .them killing different people won't disprove the theory, especially so soon after it was presented. . .they'll just see it as proof, and that the killers are changing their M.O. to throw us off-kilter - that maybe the information leaked and they are trying to cover their tracks." She took a deep swallow of her tea. "I guess I'm the best person to get the theory discredited. . .and if it will stop them killing families." Her voice faltered, and she took another sip to hide it.

"I know that you're right about that, but the offer for you to come back with me still stands. Lucius and Voldemort won't be able to reach you."

"What about the killings?"

"They will probably continue, but as time passes there will be fewer. Death Eaters have little care for Muggles; there are others they would. . .prefer to hunt down. . ." This time it was Hermione's voice that faltered, and Eliza understood. She was one of them.

"Why?"

Hermione snorted, smiling bitterly. "I'm not a Pureblood, or even a Half-Blood. Both my parents were normal Muggles who just so happen to have a witch for a child. These days there are very few Pureblood wizards around. Most are Half-Bloods, or like me. And the Death Eaters want only Purebloods to exist, and Muggles to be subservient. Think of it as. . .Nazi Germany. Instead of guns and tanks, it's wands and brooms." Hermione cleared her throat to change the topic. "The others, they want to be able to keep a closer watch on you." She unwrapped the package.

It was a painting of a woman by a cottage on a river, tending a garden. It wasn't one Eliza would have chosen; she preferred a minimalist, clean design, not unlike the lab she worked in. "This painting will tell us if you get into any trouble. If there's something you want us to know, tell the painting. It will deliver the message." Hermione explained as she moved around the room trying to find the best place to hang it.

"How-?" Eliza jumped and clutched her heart as the woman in the painting moved around the plants. "Oh my. . ."

"She won't move when you have guests, and she isn't terribly chatty compared to some of the others, so you will probably barely notice her." Hermione finished her tea. "Is there anything else you want to talk about before I leave?"

"I don't think so. . ."

"In that case, I'd best be going. Maddie has been asking for some batteries for her cassette player, and I wouldn't trust the others to get the right ones." She smiled warmly.

"Just one question. . .how did you get here?"

"Bus, of course. I can't Apparate yet, so it's buses, trains, or fireplaces. "

Eliza stared, wishing she hadn't asked. "I see. Thank you for telling me they're okay, I'll try to keep you updated on everything."

Hermione's visit was the reassurance she needed - that Troy and Maddie weren't at risk of suffering as she had, and that they wouldn't be used against her. She notified work that she would be back in the lab by Wednesday, and started a plan to dismiss her theory and stop the killings. Lucius would then leave her alone, and her life could return to normal.

At least, that was what she believed.

-.-.-

Wednesday was spent with a psychologist kept on retainer, evaluating her mental fitness to return to work. She gave all the answers they wanted to hear, and was approved for light duties and lab work, which suited her just fine. She didn't need to be bogged down with other cases, but rather the time and facilities to work on discrediting herself while keeping her job intact. She wasn't certain she could do it; the problem now was other people also running with the theory independently. But she had to try.

At the lab, everyone treated her like a china doll which would shatter at any moment. People avoided certain words as an unnecessary courtesy in her presence, to the point it was more annoying than appreciated. As a result, that week she spent most of her time in her lab, away from the fussing and pitiful looks. Discrediting herself proved to be a greater challenge than she had anticipated, especially given that she knew what she knew and the theory simply fit the mould. Janice stopped in from time to time to check up on her, and slowly, things started becoming more normal.

A week passed, and the number of killings lessened dramatically, despite the hype the newspapers circulated. There was no word from Lucius, and she received a few short letters in the post from Troy and Maddie asking when she would join them, and also to please send batteries or pick up new tapes. The letters were accompanied by short, reassuring messages that they had heard nothing to concern her, and that she must be doing something right.

She was back on full duties, and court dates began appearing her calendar. She arranged to meet with Janice at a local cafe to discuss an upcoming trial, and to review the medical evidence.

She seated herself in a private booth while she waited for her lunch and coffee. The person last sitting there left a copy of The Daily Telegraph, and as she scanned the headline she tried to ignore the gut-twisting guilt - a photo of another once-living-and-happy family, now dead. She turned the paper over and waited for Janice to arrive.

The door chimed as someone entered, and she nearly swallowed her tongue in her attempt to swallow the shriek threatening to escape. Lucius ordered something from the counter before casually strolling to her booth and taking a seat as though she had been expecting him. Eliza's heart pounded as he took a quick glance at the paper.

"I see you have returned to society," he commented lightly. "Back at work so soon?"

"I have a meeting with a colleague who will be here any minute. What do you want?" she hissed.

He picked up the paper, ignoring her, and scanned the front page. "Such a pity about that family." He smiled knowingly at her, and her cheeks flushed with anger.

"I'm more interested in the bastard who did it," she replied with the same calm venom.

He laughed. "So there is a backbone hiding somewhere in there, I was wondering when you'd show it."

"This wasn't necessary," she hissed, pointing at the front page.

"A father who abuses his children and a mother who spends every penny on gambling, a son who killed the neighbour's cat just to see what it felt like?" He snorted and threw the paper onto another table. "Few who knew them are shedding a tear."

She highly doubted they took the time to know the families before they killed them. "Reminiscing?" she asked snidely.

"It would make it easier for you if I were, if you could convince yourself I had some sort of horrid upbringing which turned me into the monster you believe I am. But no."

"Decent people don't kill others."

"So. . .people in the army, or doctors who turn off life support, and the vets who put cute little puppies and kittens to sleep because they couldn't be sold at a pet store. . .they aren't decent people, are they?" he simpered, giving her a mocking pout. "Time for you to wake up, my dear, there is no such thing as a decent person. And you are hardly one to be preaching about decency. I kill a person and they are dead, end of story. But you - you violate every part of their body, cutting, digging, weighing, probing, doing things serial killers dream of. . ." He stopped as the waitress approached, and smiled charmingly at her as she brought them her drinks. The waitress blushed and smiled back, clearly taken by him. He waited until she left before continuing. "So tell me, Eliza, which of us is the real monster?"

"I do it to catch people like you," she hissed.

"And you're doing such a good job of it." It would have been less patronising if he patted her on the head and made baby sounds and faces at her. She hated the way he could make her feel tiny just with a glance. "But enough of 'Who's the Bigger Monster?' As much as I love this game, I think we both know who would take the cake. Wouldn't you agree?"

Eliza tried to suppress a shudder as she remembered the thing which now had a name.

Lucius allowed himself a small satisfied smile before taking a sip of his drink. "The reason I am here is because I would like to let you know how many more families will be dying tonight. After all, your evidence is so much more important than little Tommy's family."

"You win," Eliza said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. I think it must have been trapped behind the childish indignities."

"You win. I'm discrediting it all."

"But we were having so much fun doing it for you, and we hadn't even gotten to the best parts. I didn't think you would give up without so much as a fight. Are you sure?" Smugness oozed from every muscle in his face.

"What do you want me to say? You win; you're getting what you wanted. So you can get back to your war and leave me alone." Eliza still hadn't touched her tea when Lucius finished his drink.

Lucius stood, preparing to leave. But then he leaned into her, so that to anyone watching it looked like he was kissing her cheek. She resisted the urge to back away or flinch. "I may have gotten what I wanted, but what I want isn't relevant. He isn't finished with you as of yet."

Eliza forgot how to breathe and her stomach turned to lead. Lucius stood again.

"It was a pleasant lunch, we must do dinner sometime." He smiled, straightening his jacket.

It wasn't until he left that she let breath escape, shuddering in relief. "Oh God," she whispered pleadingly.

"I bet he has that effect on every woman," smiled the waitress, bringing Eliza her focaccia. "There just aren't enough men like him around." She sighed dreamily.

"Take it from me, one is more than enough," Eliza said, wishing that she could be so ignorant. The door chimed as Janice finally arrived.

-.-.-

Maddie sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at an oil painting of a dark-haired woman posed in a garden in full bloom. The place was nothing like she expected. When Troy told her Claire was eccentric. . . .

They'd been there more than a week, and she was beginning to climb the walls. There was no TV, no phone, and no computer. It was a large, rickety old boarding house of sorts, from the outside, she guessed about five stories high. Every stair creaked and sagged as though it would snap, and the other people living here were stranger than Claire. But that wasn't what bothered her the most.

She continued to stare at the painting opposite her bed. There was something wrong with it. The first morning she woke up, she was sure the woman's pose had changed - not much, but slightly. Then on the second morning she woke up, needing the bathroom, she was so tired she didn't really notice the painting. The woman was there when she got back, more awake. . .but she couldn't shake the feeling that when she got up, there had been no one in the frame.

There were some other kids here. Ron and his sister Ginny were entertaining, happily teaching her new games she'd never heard of, just as she taught them rummy and Uno, which she was shocked to learn that they had never heard of. They dismissed any suggestion that there was something strange about the house, despite the display of what appeared to be shrunken alien heads. Meals were served in their rooms, and they had been asked to stay there as much as possible, for "safety reasons".

Troy's room was just down the hall. He was content to read the books they gave him, and be followed around by the household dog Sirius. She tried playing with him - fetch in the backyard, as - once again, for "safety reasons" - they weren't allowed off the property. Fetch was a tragic and humiliating failure. After almost an hour of throwing and retrieving the stick herself, with the other kids and the dog watching her like she was some type of loon, she gave up.

So here she was. There had been little word from Eliza as to when she would come, and what she would give for a copy of the Daily Telegraph. Or a jog down the street if for no other reason than to know what was happening beyond the walls of this house. Downstairs everyone talked in hushed whispers, and conversation died when they approached. She stayed in her room, listening to her music.

A knock on the door didn't break her concentration. "Come in."

Ron entered, holding a tray with two huge bowls of soup. For all the faults, the food was incredible. "Chicken soup - are you still staring at that painting?" he asked, not quite hiding the humour in his voice.

"Yep," she replied, still not taking her eyes off it. A few days ago, she took it down and looked at it back to front, trying to see if there were any wires which would bring evidence it wasn't a simple painting, but was disappointed to find nothing. She hung it back up, as staring at it passed the time if nothing else. "It's gonna' mess up sometime." She was convinced of that. Troy accused her of having an over-active imagination and nothing to do. But it changed, a little bit every day. Something changed - the smile, the gathering of the dress, or the direction of her foot. She knew she wasn't crazy, and if she saw it move, that would confirm it.

"Well, you should probably tear your eyes away and eat while it's still hot. I thought you might like the company." He blushed red, slightly uncertain if he should sit on the bed next to her. "Unless you and the painting have a prior engagement," he joked. Maddie patted the spot on the bed as an invitation, glancing around as she shuffled across to give him space. She quickly remembered she was supposed to be looking at the painting, and snapped back to it.

It blinked.

It blinked. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Maddie leapt to her feet, completely forgetting about the hot soup in her lap, sending it flying, and bolted for the door. Ron beat her to it. "It blinked, Ron. I know it, and I'm not crazy - I swear to God I'm not-"

"Calm down, it was a trick of the light. Now sit down and I'll get you some more soup-"

"That painting is alive, it moves."

"Don't be silly, of course it doesn't," he said quickly, glaring at the painting. He barely shook his head.

Maddie spun around to look; clearly Ron wasn't shaking his head for her benefit. The woman was looking at Ron and pointing angrily at the door. Maddie screamed and ran past him. Footsteps raced toward her from every direction. She burst into her brother's room.

"Wha-?"

"It moved, Troy, I saw it, the fucking painting is alive-" Maddie rambled, her heart pounding faster than when she'd ever felt when playing her sports. "This place is fucking weird. I want to go home - and I want to go home now," she demanded hysterically.

Troy frowned. "Maddie, I know you're bored, but this kind of attention-seeking is very childish-" Troy was moving into father tones, the kind one gave when he was embarrassed by his daughter's behaviour.

"I'm not fucking crazy!" she wailed, ignoring the pounding on the closed door behind her. "The painting was doing this!" She mimicked the motion.

"Maddie, I have had enough of -"

Suddenly a third voice interrupted the conversation. "I knew she wouldn't be able to keep it up – I told them so."

Troy and Maddie stared at the painting in his room - a man who looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

They screamed.

-.-.-

It was a tradition to celebrate with drinks when they got a conviction. And after Eliza's most recent encounter with Lucius, she made certain she was with other people as often as possible, so she opted to join them rather than head home to an empty house. She had a wonderful time, allowing herself to get delightfully tipsy enough to forget her concerns and thoroughly enjoy herself. She even flirted playfully back at some of the detectives, but stayed close to Janice. Detective Lloyd's joke was interrupted by the bartender, who approached with a drink.

"I have a Devil's Advocate for Eliza? From the gentleman over there." Eliza took the drink and glanced in the direction. Lucius was at the other end of the bar; he smiled and saluted her with his drink. Eliza didn't smile back, and ignored the winks, whistles, and nudges as she set the drink aside.

"'Scuse me a moment." She purposefully left her bag behind as she walked over to him, continuing to ignore the cheers and whistles. Under normal circumstances she would laugh with them, but not tonight. Not with him.

"What are you doing here?" It wasn't so much a question as a demonstration of annoyance.

"Interesting people you work with," he said, casually taking a sip from his drink, "are they always so… well... primitive?"

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, far from being in the mood for games.

"Waiting for you, actually, you have a dinner engagement." He smiled.

"No, I don't." She made to leave but his hand closed on her wrist once again with enough force to bruise. She turned back to him and wrenched her arm free, glaring at him.

"I have no objections to killing everyone in this room if needs be," he informed her lightly.

Eliza glanced back at her table, most of them had resumed their drinking and chatting, whilst only a couple were 'watching the show'. "I'll get my bag." She replied, defeated.

He held raised his other hand and handed her handbag to her. He held one hand on her back as he escorted her out amidst the cheers of drunk and tipsy detectives.

-.-.-

"In your car." He gestured at the silver Audi in the parking lot.

"Thought you didn't need a car." She dug irritably through her bag for her keys.

"It would be a little suspicious if they came out to find it was still here," he replied simply, tapping the lock with his wand and getting into the front passenger side.

Eliza practically threw the bag at his head as she took her place behind the wheel and turned the ignition. "So, where are we going?"

"Your place, of course. You're hardly dressed appropriately."

"Fine," she snapped, reversing a little faster than she intended.

"And do stick to the law, you don't want to draw any unwanted attention." Lucius smiled as he watched her anger rise.

"And why exactly am I having dinner with you?"

"I never said it was with me." The words took a moment to sink in, and another to replace the anger with fear.

The drive home was silent, Eliza wrestling with herself not to drive into the nearest light pole at a hundred miles per hour. She didn't know if it would kill him, but she had no doubt it would take care of her. Lucius all the while sat in silence, watching as the other cars went past, looking incredibly bored.

"Am I dinner?" She finally asked the question gnawing at her stomach.

Lucius looked at her as though she were insane. "I beg your pardon?" He didn't quite believe she asked what he thought she asked.

"Is he going to eat me?"

"No, we don't eat people," he replied, amused.

"Will I be coming back from this dinner?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

Eliza pulled into her driveway as the sun began to set. She was painfully aware of her heart beating; it felt like a countdown. Lucius got out of the car and opened her door for her, holding out a hand. She ignored it, reluctantly stepped out of the car, and unlocked the front door. The picture was placed in a prime location. As soon as she walked in, she spotted it. The woman appeared to be sitting in the window now, very still; she prayed that it would stay that way.

Lucius closed the door behind him and waited for her to lead the way. As soon as they were in her room, he took over, searching through her wardrobe. "Merlin. Do you only wear trousers?" he asked, searching again.

Eliza folded her arms and shifted her weight. "Yes," she replied, a little uncomfortable with her clothing being attacked. It was filled with trousers and long-sleeved shirts for one simple reason: the scars from her accident.

Lucius muttered something irritably under his breath as he turned to face her. He stared at her longer than she was comfortable with, before pulling out his wand and muttering again. Her clothes transformed into a simple black dinner dress. She glanced in the mirror, her shoulders and arms uncomfortably bare, the fine white scars plain as day against her skin.

"I don't do short sleeves," she commented tartly.

"You do tonight," Lucius replied, before taking a glance at her arms and frowning. He waved his wand again and long sleeves covered her arms. She was about to thank him when he pointed his wand at the dressing table and a small box appeared. He handed it to her. "Put these on, and then we leave."

She waited until the sound of footsteps told her he was down the hall. Then she opened the box. She stared wide-eyed at the earrings and necklace, before looking at Lucius, confused. He gave her an impatient look, so she quickly obeyed and hurried out. He vanished the box whilst it was in her hands and held out a gentlemanly arm.

She winced slightly as she stepped toward him, taking his arm and closing her eyes tight. "I hate this part. . ."

They vanished from sight.

-.-.-.

Hermione smiled at the story her father told them about his day at work, and dug into her dinner. In a few days they would be bringing Harry to Grimmauld Place, and she would stay there full time the rest of the holidays. Home was lovely, and she was luckier than most - all too often parents struggled to accept their children's magical abilities, but hers were proud of her and her achievements. But it wasn't the same as being surrounded by magic all the time.

"Dear, would you clear up?" her mother started to ask, when a loud crack coming from the entrance hall announced visitors. "Never mind, it sounds important."

Hermione raced to the front door, accompanied by her father. "Professor Lupin, what is it?"

"Troy and Maddie, they saw the pictures move. And you're practiced at breaking the news. We need you now."

"Mum, Dad! I have to go, I'll probably be gone a while-"

"Go, we'll pack your things for you," her father replied, handing her a coat. She gave him a quick hug and kiss before vanishing with Remus.

-.-.-

Thank you for reading. Please leave a short message telling what you think, and if you have any suggestions for improvements or plots you would like to see. I take all con-crit in stride.